


Ends and Means and Rearview Mirrors

by jdphoenix



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:58:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody changes, Audrey Parker more than most, but no one ever changes completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ends and Means and Rearview Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> I set to writing this as a potential season 5 scene (after we get our Audrey back of course) but it could also probably work somewhere towards the end of season 4.

She’s standing on the deck outside her apartment, wrapped in a big, thick quilt somebody dug out of their attic when it became clear the former FBI agent was sticking around; something to help the city girl survive the coastal Maine winter. It’s not doing much to keep her warm though, since her feet are bare on the wooden boards.

He sidles up next to her, leans his forearms on the railing. From this angle he can see the light streaming through the Gull’s windows and the shadows of late customers. He doesn’t look at them though. He looks where she looks, off at the horizon. It’s not even really visible this late and you kind of have to trust it’s there before you can really see the line separating the black depths of the ocean from the black void of the sky. The Glendower men are somewhere out there, waiting for the day they can finally come home.

“You’re not her,” he says, picking up the strings of their earlier conversation as if no time at all has passed between sentences. “You’re not that person. Not anymore.”

“Yes,” she says and it’s half-firm, half-exhaustion, “I am.”

“No-” He starts to turn but her hand on his shoulder stops him.

“I have always been Mara. Even when I didn’t remember the name. Even when I thought my name was Lucy or Sarah or Lexie or _Audrey_.”

She says it like a slap in the face and he’s honestly not sure which one of them the blow’s meant for. He doesn’t try to stand again but instead twists his head around to look at her best he can over his shoulder.

“I _enjoyed_ it.” Her face twists up like the truth of it makes her sick. “All those years - decades, _centuries_ \- that I helped people in this town, people I had hurt in the first place-”

“You didn’t know that,” he soothes and now he does stand but keeps close to the rail, leaning right up against it so she can keep the space between them if she wants.

“I loved it. I loved every second of it, even the really terrible ones like Harry Nix and Arla. I got some sick, perverted pleasure out of every one of them.”

“It’s not the same.”

“It is!”

“ _No_ , it’s not.” His resolve to let her decide their proximity goes out the window. He takes her by the arms as if physical contact will somehow force her to hear what he’s saying. “Yes, you liked solving the cases and fixing the problems. And yes, maybe you liked for them to be a little weird, things other people wouldn’t be able to handle. So you’re guilty of pride. The fixing things bit, that’s just human nature.”

“I still did it to them in the first place.”

“You did,” he concedes because there’s no point denying it. “And you spent the last God only knows how many years helping those people. You didn’t do it as some twisted form of retribution, you did it because it was the right thing to do. So I’m sorry but I really don’t see how you’re still that same woman who cursed this whole town for fun. Maybe you were once but not anymore.”

She blinks rapidly and takes a deep breath before confessing, “I’m not sorry.”

He wants to say she doesn’t have to be because she’s so far beyond Mara, because she’s spent so long fixing this town. But that would be a lie.

“I know I should be. I know I hurt people - hurt _you_. I know I deserve every second of this punishment and I should feel bad …. I’ve tried and I’ve tried but I just can’t do it.”

She touches his face. It’s barely anything, just the tips of her fingers on his cheek, but it has his heart stuttering in his chest.

“I got you,” she says softly. “And I refuse to be sorry for that.”

Her hand hovers beside his face a moment longer before falling away. She twists out of his hold and pads slowly back into the apartment. He stands there, dumb. He’s not sure if he should follow or give her space. He’s not even sure how he feels about this. It’s a lot like when they finally had it out about her lying about being Lexie. Her confession that she loved him was a death sentence but after months of thinking he’d lost her forever, killed her and their son, it was a weight off his mind to hear it.

The door is banging open before he realizes he’s crossed the deck. She’s dropped the quilt over the back of her couch, leaving her looking small and broken. The sight of her like this twists in his gut.

When he’s nearly reached her he says, “I’m not sorry either.” He catches a brief flash of relief on her face as he closes the distance completely. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her. Her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down almost desperately.

He regrets the lives that have been lost and destroyed, hers more than anyone’s. But he’s not sorry he’s taking some good out of it. He’s not sorry he can’t feel the chill in the air or the fabric of her bedspread under his back. He can feel _her_ and that's worth every schoolyard taunt, every missed opportunity. There are a lot of negatives to his trouble but without it he might never have found her.

One day he’ll tell her the rest but for now what she needs is to know she’s not alone and he can certainly give her that.


End file.
